A Circle Has No End
by Beat the Sun
Summary: The vicious cycle of power continues, as years go by after the fall of Lord Voldemort. From the ashes of the past arise new champions, new trials, and new horrors. Three friends, all outcasts in their right, band together to fight for all they know.
1. Prologue

Time is a strange mistress. She ebbs and flows, moving us all down her rapids. Be you muggle or wizard, hero or villain- it matters not; time brings us all to the same end. She ensnares us, never allowing a moment's reprise or reprieve.

The cycke is never ending, bringing forth one looming era after another. From Nero to Hitler, all ages fall like rain after stewing in their dark clouds. Yet, after the black storm clears, the sun bursts through, in radiant splendor, showering all with the brightest light of all- hope.

But even the sweetest days can turn to stuff of nightmares, as time marches on in her solemn march. The clouds will come again, glaring down with threatening eyes towards the flourishing world below.

Until the sun goes out, there will always be light- no matter how dim. There will always be light


	2. Chapter 1: Ben

To the world, America had always been the country without magic. Brainwashed by mundane Muggle trash, they faded away in the wizarding history.

The grey had deeply set root in many a young witch and wizard, crushing any hope of a future in magic. One such unlucky soul sat slouched at his desk in a cluttered room. His chin rested on his hand as the glow of the computer screen highlighted his features.

At first glance, you could tell he was Italian. The trademark nose told of his heritage just as much as his habit of speaking with his hands.

Long, black, lustourous hair trailed downwards, stopping at the small of his back. Numerous pins, a singular hair tie, and enough chemicals to commit mass genocide kept his hair in line. The ponytail was obviously dyed, as the deep black was highly unnatural.

Piercings adorned his face like Christmas ornaments, reflecting the glow of the screen like shards of a mirror. Three small studs lined each ear, the colors mimicking the French flag. One glinted from a dark, thick brow, both hairy caterpillars sitting in lax fashion, causing a look of superiority. His tongue pushed at the final silver piercing in the very center of his chin- a small indication of his boredom.

His clothes were all black, and though some called the style 'Goth', he knew that it was nothing more than a label. He wore it because he wanted to, nothing more, nothing less.

His room was like that of any teenage male. A large bed was shoved up against a wall; a television nestled opposite, his laptop hooked up to it. His walls were saturated with posters of attractive, half nude men.

Benjamin (Ben) Esposito- technological whiz, Muggle born, and flaming homosexual. Not that the last fact really meant anything...at least, not to the people who mattered.

"Ben!" called a familiar voice from down the hallway.

He grunted noncommittally in reply, completely focused on the text in front of him. French homework was simple, however Tartuffe was nearly impossible to decipher...he had never been very good at that Shakespearean type of writing.

A boy entered, skinny and tall. His hair was spiked and tipped red, the base the same black as Ben's. He seemed almost spritish in his boundless energy, a playful smirk lingering on his face. He glanced over Ben's shoulder, silently taking a peek at what his friend was so committed to.

Satisfied that it was nothing too important, he bounded over to the bed, letting himself sprawl out. A screech came from beneath the covers and Ben's friend leaped back up in shock, staring at the, now moving, lump on the bed. A black cat crawled out, glaring at Ben's friend indignantly before scampering down the hall, tail held high with pride. Ben's friend sheepishly watched her go.

"Sorry Princess!" He called after her.

Ben turned in his chair, his back to the computer.

"Hey Evan. Any luck with that ice cream?"

"Naw gurl." He replied, touching lumps to see if they were alive in any way. Satisfied with his findings, he threw himself down on the bed.

Ben groaned, yanking out his beloved iPhone. He began to text his father, his eyebrows scrunching together in concentration.

"Ice cream," he read aloud as he typed. "We are dying!"

He pressed send with the last word, content with the finality of the statement. They grinned at one another, waiting. A mischievous look sparked in Evan's eyes as he began to cry out in agony, writhing about in mock agony.

"I'm dying! I'm dying!" He called loudly, so as to have his voice carry out to wear Ben's father lay, sprawled on the couch.

A scream dismantled the joking as the two fell silent. With widened eyes, Ben leapt up.

"DA FUCK?" cried his father.

Now alarmed, Ben raced to the door, knocking the chair over in his haste.

As he entered the living room, he saw his father, still on the couch like a beached whale, his arms flailing wildly.

"OH MA GAWD!" He raged as he swatted at the air.

His mom was wielding wooden spoon as if it were Excalibur itself, swinging it like a batter up at the plate. Whatever they were aiming for, they were missing.

"What the hell is going on?" He asked wildly, glancing about, trying to discern the cause of their distress.

Evan appeared behind him, glancing upwards with an open mouth. Ben followed his gaze to see a small owl fluttering about, dodging the attacks like Star Fox himself. The owl seemed to spot Ben, suddenly zooming downwards to drop something near his feet. It flew over Evan's head, turned about face, and flew straight back out, soaring off into the day light.

Everyone fell silent, both parents panting heavily from their duel with the mysterious visitor. They were all looking at what the owl had dropped, not exactly sure how to react.

"Oh fuck." Evan grumbled, interrupting the silence.

Ben turned, eyebrow raised.

"It shit on my fucking head."


	3. Chapter 2: Ben

After a thorough head scrubbing, Evan and Ben were back in his room. Both sat Indian style on the ground across from one another, the mysterious letter in the middle.

The previous chaos had calmed to the normal state of affairs- his mother was grumbling in the kitchen while his father fell under the lazy state that television often brings.

Meanwhile, the two shell shocked boys could only stare in wonder at the gift bestowed upon them. Well, one of them anyway.

The envelope was held shut with maroon wax, an elaborate 'H' left by a seal. Truly, such an old fashioned method of communication was an oddity unto itself. Yet, things continuously became stranger, and stranger.

On the other side, in an oddly fluorescent purple, were the words:

**Benjamin Esposito**

**The third bedroom with the mask**

**Fairfield**

**United States of America**

The two let the silence stretch thin, both lost in their own thoughts. Evan suddenly spoke up.

"Do you think it's some sort of sale? Like a marketing gimmick or something?"

"Yeah, sure," replied Ben, his voice dripping with heavy sarcasm. "It's Starbucks' new way of giving out coupons."

"Don't be such a little bitch. At least I'm trying."

Another silence.

"...Should we open it or something?"  
"..."

Slowly, Ben reached out and gingerly lifted the letter like a time bomb. One wrong move, and it could explode.

They both unwittingly held their breath as Ben detached the seal as if her were a surgeon. Even though it was strange, he felt that it was a damn shame to ruin it. After all, it was pretty cool.

He felt like a child playing Operation as he wiggled the letter free from its paper prison. It wasn't just a single page as he had thought...it seemed to be at least three sheets.

"Well?" Evan inquired, unable to keep the anticipation out of his voice. "Read it out loud!"

Grinning playfully, Ben cleared his throat, preparing to dramatize the supposed Starbucks coupon.

"Benjamin Esposito," he began, letting his voice shake with false, grandiose authority. "We would like to extend our heartfelt congratulations..." he paused, casting a pointed look at Evan.

"And our welcome. You have been chosen with three others to represent your country..."

Here, the joking manner began to diminish, evolving into growing wonder and astonishment. The letter went on:

_Currently, we are tentatively seeking to extend the education of young witches and wizards such as yourself to America. You shall be an emissary, travelling to all three wizarding schools in the following order:_

_Beauxbatons_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Durmstrang_

_We shall be sending a representative on the fifteenth of August to collect you and your luggage. If you have any questions, Darcy will take your letter._

_Sincerely,_

_Zekiel Burrowstone_

_Minister of Magic_


	4. Chapter 3: Ben

The first reaction wasn't one of glee, nor was it of joy. Rather the strange letter was met with a long, uncomfortable, and awkward quiet.

"Um...is that for real?" questioned Evan.

"It can't be. It's probably just some prank."

"Maybe it's like that Jamaican lottery scam."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

Evan rolled his eyes, shifting to get into a more comfortable position.

"It's when you get a random letter saying that you won the Jamaican lottery, and that you have send money to them to pay off the taxes, or some shit like that. I saw it on tv."

Ben shook his head.

"It didn't say anything about a lottery, or wanting money."

_Tap, tap, tap._

Both boys turned to look at where the sound was coming from. The owl from before hovered by Ben's window, tapping at the glad with its beak.

"Is it retarded or something? What's it doing?" asked Ben, astonished.

"I think...I think it wants us to let it in."

"No way. Haven't you ever read Salem's Lot? Opening windows for anything that knocks always ends badly."

"But it's an owl...not a vampire."

"So? An owl could kill if it wanted to..."

Evan sighed heavily and got to his feet, striding to the window with purpose. The owl stopped tapping its beak against the pane upon seeing Evan's approach, and contended itself with fluttering back an inch expectantly.

Pausing only for a moment, Evan finally unlatched the window. With a great, dignified swoop, the owl soared into the bedroom, finding a comfortable spot to roost on the back of Ben's chair. He perched there, watching the two as if it were beneath him to even be in the same space as them.

"What now?" asked Evan, returning to his seat on the ground.

"I don't know," retorted Ben, annoyed. "You're the one who let it in."

Glancing at the letter, Evan scanned for answers.

"I guess that's Darcy..."

"This is all probably some scam anyway."  
"Maybe."  
Both were lost in their own thoughts, trying to find meaning from this. Finally, inspiration struck.

"It brought the letter here right? That means that it may be able to take something back."  
"What though?"  
Ben stood unsteadily, lumbering to his desk. He yanked a scrap of paper from his French binder, and snatched a nearby ball point pen. He stared at the paper for a moment, then set ink to the job, rapidly scribbling out one word. He capped the pen, set it aside, and turned back to Evan, holding the paper out to him. Written in his illegible handwriting was the solitary message:

Proof

Evan nodded approvingly, and then both let their eyes fall back on the owl.

"What now?"

Ben shrugged. Darcy seemed to take notice of their confusion and gave them a degrading sneer that was as condescending as an owl could possibly be.

With extreme disdain, he held out his leg, a small leather strap already hanging from it. Ben cautiously approached, holding the letter out in front of him like a peace treaty, or perhaps a shield. He burst into sudden movement, tying the letter sloppily to the thing leg.  
With a hoot (which sounded a bit like a laugh), the owl lifted off in flight, making a dramatic exit back through the window, leaving two boys gaping after him.


End file.
